"Oh."
Of course she didn't understand. How could she? Part of the reason the Flying W was so important to her was the strong family ties it represented.
"He was a sonuvabitch. I couldn't care less that he's dead. The only reason I brought it up is I might have to go handle a few things eventually."
He didn't like that Taylor's opinion on that had started to undermine his absolute certainty that he would never go back. But if there was any chance that he'd need time away to take care of his father's final effort to make him dance to Laurance Whitton's tune, he wanted Matty to have fair warning.
"Of course, anytime you need to go, and for as long as you need. You just let me know. And if there's anything—"
"I won't go if I can help it. But no matter what. I won't be going just yet, especially not with calling. I told my lawyer to try to make it so I can handle anything from here. But she's not sure she can do that."
"She?"
"Taylor."
He saw the questions and speculation crowding into her eyes, but all she got out was an echoing "Taylor?"
"Yeah. She's done a good job for you, so I hired her." He did that well, he told himself, making it sound like a simple recommendation between friends of someone providing professional services. "You better go, you're running out of daylight."
Then he gave Juno a slap on the rump, and he couldn't tell which female was more surprised and irked at him – the horse or his boss.
* * *
Taylor's office door burst open, jolting her from a reverie. She didn't mind leaving those particular thoughts, but, recognizing her visitor, she suspected the subject was not going to change much.
"Okay, what in the world is going on?" Matty Brennan Currick demanded as she crossed the threshold.
"Hello, Matty. It's nice to see you, too. How are you this morning? So glad you could stop by, and knock on my door, or let my office assistant announce you."
"Yeah, yeah. Lisa's not out front, and I knew you'd say come in if I knocked, so I saved you the effort." Matty waved off the objection and sat across from Taylor. "What's this business with Cal hiring you?"
"You know I can't discuss a client's business."
"Of course I do, and I'm not talking about what he hired you for – although if you ask me, anybody so sure he doesn't care a bit about his father's death really does care, at least at some level. No, I know – nobody asked me. That's not the point, anyhow. It's the fact of his hiring you that I want to talk about, and what it means to what's going on between the two of you."
"Nothing's going on."
"Tell me another one, Taylor. I saw you two when we all dug your car out."
"Which was snowed in because of a certain devious person I know."
"You can thank me later. But you can't tell me there was nothing going on between you. I was really hopeful. Now with this hiring thing, and his father passing away, I don't know what's going on. I'd love to think this was good news – the two of you spending time together over romantic depositions or something. But, knowing Cal, that would be too good to be true. Still, he turned to you, right?"
Taylor sighed. "Have you ever had somebody you thought you were getting closer to? You know, really starting to know them, even though they were the hardest person to get to know you'd ever encountered. And getting to know them seemed almost…" Against their will. "Impossible. But it wasn't – impossible, I mean because it started to happen.
"And then they told you something – confided something to you. And you realized that telling you was a way to keep you from getting any closer."
Matty leaned back in the chair for the first time.
"My husband says I jump to conclusions, but I'd say it's about as safe a jump as they come that this mysterious somebody is your friend and mine, Cal. Still, it must mean he trusts you, or he wouldn't have retained you as his lawyer."
"Yes, he would."
Matty studied her. Taylor had always recognized Matty's intelligence. Since she and Dave had settled into married life, Matty's happiness had made her more aware of other people's emotions. Right now, Taylor could have done without that trait in her friend.
"Of course. The skunk. A skunk with a wide streak of yellow down his back."
"Skunks have white streaks. And Cal's not a skunk or yellow."
"Oh, give me a break. He's as chicken as they come. He's retained you as his attorney on something because you came too close – not only a skunk and yellow, but too damned clever for his own good. If he didn't have a good heart under all the armor, he wouldn't be worth all the effort."
Taylor couldn't argue with the last half of that assessment.
"But he does, and he is – so the only answer is to throw yourself at him," Matty said decisively. "It's not the most dignified thing, I'll admit. But when he crumbles like a month-old cookie – and he will – it will be well worth it. Course, you'll have to go out there, because chances are, he'll lie low, since he knows he's in a crumbly stage, too – otherwise, he wouldn't have pulled this stunt in the first place. So go out there, and remind him what he's missing."
"He's fixed it so I can't."
"Nonsense. Drive out, around sunset—"
"I don't mean I can't go out to the Flying W."
"I know you don't." Matty picked up her plan without missing a beat. "Get there around sunset, when he's coming back in from a long day, so his resistance is low, and—"
"I can't, Matty." The words were harsh enough to draw a searching look. Taylor couldn't reveal the scope of Cal's commission and therefore the temptation it might represent for herself, so she could only make clear one of the obstacles Cal had erected. "He's a client."
"So? That's a great excuse to go out there. Have something legal he has to look at. Then make sure you touch somehow, brush up against him or—"
"No!" Taylor's sharp word stopped Matty in midstream, her mouth open, her eyes wide. "I'm sorry, Matty, but…" Your words are sparking too many images, too many sensations, too many memories, too many unobtainable wishes. "You don't understand, Matty. As long as he's a client, we can't be involved. It would be unethical."
"But lawyers are always representing their friends, and—"
"Friends, yes. But not someone you're … intimate with." She hurried past that admission. Matty showed no sign of surprise. "I had a professor who used to say that you should never take on a client if your relationship was going to be another, silent client. Dave hasn't suggested you move your business over to him, has he?" She dredged up a smile. "He would certainly give you a good rate."
"But I like having my own lawyer for my own business dealings … oh, I see what you mean."
Matty ran her fingertips across the edge of the chair's arm, over and over. Taylor, trying to not think about her own situation, watched the other woman's face, and could see her determination welling up.
"That's all well and good, and I understand it for Dave and me with the two ranches going and all, but for you and Cal it's different. You just have to get through this shell of his, and once you do, then you can send him to be Dave's client or something. In the meantime, you'll just have to make an exception. It's not—"
"No, Matty. I won't do it. I won't do it, because I won't be the kind of lawyer – the kind of person – who makes excuses or says "just this once' or any of that other crap. And I won't do it, because Cal knew that's how I felt and that's why he retained me. He wants this barrier—" And others. "—between us. When one barrier came down, he put this one up in its place. He's like a turtle that sheds one shell and grows another."
"That's snakes. Turtles keep the same shell for life."
"It doesn't matter. It still comes down to Cal can't be dragged out of that shell. He has to want to come out. For good."
He has to believe in me and in himself and what there could be between us. And what's the chance of that?
* * *
Chapter 12
« ^ »
Taylor would never have beli
eved that only hours later it would be all she could do to curb simultaneous urges to hug and laugh at Cal Ruskoff.
Matty had the idea just before she left Taylor's office. Taylor tried to talk her out of it, but when had anybody succeeded in talking Matty out of something? And maybe part of her didn't want to.
If the man wouldn't come out of the cave, the world would have to barge in.
In the case of Cal, that translated into a caravan of three pickups, a four-wheel drive and Taylor's small car pulling to a stop in front of the Flying W foreman's house.
Cal came out of a shed they used for farming equipment, wiping his hands on a rag. His gaze came to her first. It was a look of pure wariness.
Sin bounded out, rushing up to greet each newcomer, barking and wagging his tail. Nobody seeing the contrast would ever again believe the saying about humans and their animals resembling each other.
"Cal, come here," called Matty. When he was close enough to talk to, she added, "You're done working for today. C'mon. Let us in. You don't mind, do you?"
Since Matty had led the way toward the back porch with Lisa, Ruth and Hugh Moski, Taylor and Dave following her, and she now had her hand firmly around the doorknob, it would have taken an even more antisocial man than Cal to turn her down.
"It's not locked," he muttered, still standing in the yard. With the late afternoon air a throwback to January, his breath sent up a solitary plume of white. "But I've got work to finish."
"No more working today. That's an order. C'mon, everybody."
As they trooped past Cal, Ruth patted his arm and said, "Sorry for your loss, Cal. It's hard when you lose a parent."
Again Cal's gaze came to Taylor, but this time, behind the blue ice she saw a man who'd had his dark suspicions confirmed. And maybe was a little relieved to have it happen.
"Don't blame Taylor," Dave murmured as he passed Cal. "If you can't figure out who's behind this, Ruskoff, you shouldn't be allowed out without a keeper."
Before Dave guided her toward the open door, Taylor caught another glimpse of Cal's expression, and saw astonishment that the other man had read him so easily, followed by uneasiness. Was the uneasiness because Dave had read him, or because of his own misjudgment of her?
She'd tiptoed around him those first few days of the snowstorm. Maybe she should have handled it the way these other people were. Matty was stowing the food they'd brought in the refrigerator. Lisa was putting items out on the kitchen table. Ruth had commandeered the coffeemaker. Dave was preheating the oven to Matty's specifications. And Hugh was checking the contents of the cooler he'd brought in, taking time to draw out a can of beer.
"You sit down right here, young fella," instructed Hugh, pressing Cal into a kitchen chair.
"We need silverware," Lisa said, looking over the table. "Where—?"
"I'll get it."
Taylor made the offer in order to have something to do. But the flurry of exchanged glances that ricocheted around the room had her cheeks burning.
"I helped with the dishes." She could have bitten her tongue. Explaining made it worse.
"Helped, hell. I made her do all the kitchen work," Cal announced. "No sense having a woman around otherwise."
"Cal Ruskoff, you—"
"What a pig!"
Matty and Lisa had spun around, jumping on his words, then obviously recognized that he was yanking their chains. Did they also recognize that he'd done it to divert attention from Taylor?
"Right, Ruskoff. Tell us another one," Matty said.
Lisa tsked at him and turned away.
Poor Cal. He liked to think he was so impervious to other people seeing inside him. In the space of ten minutes, he'd been found out by Dave, Matty and Lisa.
"Hoo, boy, you're in for it, Cal!" Hugh Moski chuckled. "Better have a beer."
"He's just talking that way to get a rise out of people," Ruth explained to her husband. "Some people react that way to grief."
From the corner of her eye, as she set out forks on the table, Taylor saw Cal's brows crash down in a frown.
Before he could dispute Ruth's statement, however, the older woman was continuing with her own agenda. "As long as we're all here, I had a bit of business – if you don't mind, Cal. It won't take but a minute."
"Be my guest," he said with a hint of irony.
"Taylor and Lisa, I've already told Dave, but I wanted to let you know I'm leaving in the morning to go to Grand Forks. And if it's all right with the two of you, I sure would appreciate it if Lisa maybe could pitch in a couple hours every other day or so to keep the office from getting totally out of hand."
"That's entirely up to Lisa. It's fine with me."
"Of course I will, Ruth. I hope nothing's wrong?"
"Our oldest granddaughter's come down with pneumonia. It was either me going to look after her, or her momma going. And with three more at home, it made more sense for Brenda to stay there."
"I'm sure your granddaughter will be happy to have you take care of her."
Ruth sighed. "She'll be chomping at the bit before I know it. Girl's got more go than sense. You know she's in medical school?"
Taylor fought a grin. As if anyone in the region didn't know.
"Trouble is, she's working, too, to put herself through school, and she's just plain wearing herself out. I wish we could make it easier on her, but she won't hear of us dipping into our retirement savings. If it weren't for my working for Dave, we wouldn't have anything to send along to help her. And don't think I don't notice how I suddenly get bonuses when tuition's due," she added with a swat at Dave's arm as if she were scolding him instead of thanking him.
"Hey, I'm just trying to keep you from deciding to quit."
"I don't know why you don't leave this selfish man and dry, Ruth," Matty teased. "All he can think about is his own convenience. And the state of his filing cabinets. You are the most—"
Taylor didn't hear the end of Matty's description of her husband, because there was a knock at the back door. That alone wouldn't have diverted her attention, but the hunted look Cal cast at that rectangle of wood did. He snagged Sin's collar as the puppy went by in a joyous flight toward new arrivals. But Ruth ordered Hugh to take over Sin patrol so Cal could greet his guests.
These arrivals were Reverend Ervin Foley, accompanying a small, white-haired woman who held out a covered blue plastic cake plate toward Cal. He hesitated before bowing to the inevitable by taking it, the homey item looking laughably incongruous in his hold.
"I'm so sorry for your loss, young man." The white-haired woman stretched up one hand and patted his cheek.
Taylor was aware of a breath-holding moment in the room. Without taking her gaze from Cal, she caught Matty and Dave looking at each other, and Ruth looking up from her task. They weren't sure how Cal would react, but Taylor was.
"Thank you, ma'am. It's kind of you to come by and bring me some, uh…"
"Rum cake, of course." She was clearly astonished he didn't know.
Taylor stepped forward, taking the plate from Cal's unresisting hands. She met his eyes for a significant second then fought to keep her voice casual as she said, "How nice to see you, Mrs. Brontman. Lisa, is that open spot available to put the rum cake?"
"Absolutely."
Another knock sounded, and the small house soon filled to overflowing with the arrival of three neighboring ranchers and their wives, followed by two Flying W hands, and the Slash-C foreman, Jack Ralston.
The number of people made traffic flow a definite problem. The incoming tide of visitors had carried Taylor to the fireplace. Now she was trying to work her way toward the kitchen to give Lisa a hand. She saw an opening and slipped between Ervin Foley, in deep conversation with Fred Montress, and the bookcase. Only when she cleared the minister did she see Cal dead ahead, sitting astride one of the kitchen chairs, with Sin leaning against his side.
That look they'd shared over the Widow Brontman's rum cake had left her shaken. She was working at accepting Cal's dec
ision that there would be nothing between them – and then he had gone and looked at her like the man who'd rolled her in the snow and heated her shower way past the boiling point.
It wasn't fair, and she wasn't going to put up with it anymore.
Taylor made a sharp left, and barely avoided running directly into Matty, who had appeared out of nowhere. With Cal straight ahead, Matty to her left, and the bookcase to her right, Taylor made one last bid for escape, but Ervin Foley had shifted, blocking her retreat.
"Looks like you and Sin are getting along fine," Matty said to Cal. "And to think you didn't want to take him. Guess you don't always know what's best for you, do you?"
Cal's stroking hand stopped. For an instant Taylor thought he would take his hand away. Instead, he resumed petting the dog, giving Matty a bland look.
"What do you think you're up to, Matty?"
"Not a thing. I simply passed the word to some of your friends that you'd had a bereavement in the family."
"It's no bereavement, and I doubt these people count me as a friend. Hell, I didn't even know Mrs. Brontman's name until the reverend said it."
"Taylor was the one who said it, saving your sorry neck, and you know it. As for knowing the widow, you took her arm and helped her over the rough ground at Great-Uncle Henry's funeral."
He shifted his shoulders. "So."
"She hasn't had the easiest of lives. She remembers kindnesses. When she heard me telling Ervin, she insisted on coming and bringing her rum cake. There hasn't been a decent funeral in this county in forty years that she hasn't brought her rum cake to."
His fingers burrowed into Sin's fur, kneading the flesh below. "This is no funeral."
"No, but it's the way people around here express support. Let your friends extend their condolences the way they know how."
"I don't want—"
"Too bad, Cal. We're your friends, whether you want us or not."
Matty walked away, leaving Cal and Taylor face-to-face. Their gazes locked.
His feelings for her – whatever they might be – weren't dead, and she supposed she would have to be grateful for that, only it hurt so much to see the flame surrounded by a ring of ice. He still wanted her, and still didn't want to want her.
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